Silent Hill: Vague & Morbid Silhouettes
by LegacyofLovecraft
Summary: Angel and Jon-Jon are thrown into a world of festering nightmares when going to the Northbay hospital to visit their grandmother, and must battle their demons in order to find out why the shadow of Silent Hill is drawn to them.
1. Prologue

___________________________

...:::Silent Hill:::...

..::{Vague and Morbid Silhouettes}::..

Prologue  
.:The Shadow of Silent Hill:.

___________________________

The grave and chilling silence hung all around the mist; choking it; girdling it; corroding it. Not a sound could break the eerie and dreadful nothingness of isolation. Not a single thread of light tore through the gray and unwelcoming mist, and my vision was of horrid sights that blurred my sanity in the void of insanity; cheating my eyes into perceiving such things that were not of the necessity of our reality. Yet, of course, this was only a dream. I knew, for the things that I had seen were of things that only drew breath in dreams and nightmares; subjects merely a faux to the reality in the conscious and waking world. It's the things that you cherish the most that are lost in the grim shadows of the past, and some form of Deity laughs and makes a mockery of you by deranging the cherished things into delusional madness in which propels you into a nightmarish world feasting on fears.

Nevertheless, I accepted these dreams filled with anguish and turmoil, hatred and catastrophe, and of things psychological that bend and twist to form some sort of reality that truly was the beginning phases of the mind processing into insanity. However, I do not doubt many would tremble fearfully because they lack the knowledge of how the brain truly functions, and the content of the fear begetting their reluctance to pursue for answers is why they linger on in this ignorance.

My dear reader, can your mind conceive of the things that I had to see, hear, touch, and smell? Would it truly grasp the concept of fear for what I felt in these dream-like worlds that flourished mutated and distorted figures symbolic to inner fears and wretched sins? Of course not, for we all comprehend the concept of fear in ways that we can never truly explain to others, let alone explain to ourselves.  
I had been sitting on a curb of a sidewalk, isolated in this eerie fog, and looking up slowly at my surroundings, the thick and heavy mist cloaked all around the buildings and homes; contrasting their images into horrid, dark, and twisted faces that overlooked me in utter despise. Truly was I disturbed by the expression that I was unwelcome in this place, yet I held no knowledge of another I could venture forth to. Why this place was so isolated from its habitants, I could not guess. For even life itself seemed to neglect this poor excuse of a town. What kind of town was Silent Hill anyway, I thought, and what was its history— or at least some of the history that dragged the town into this poor and frightening reputation it had, which one thing Silent Hill has been notorious for is being haunted; a place where many people have disappeared to and never heard of again. Surely there must have been answers, but at the moment it seemed too soon to be enlightened of Silent Hill's past. Although I've said this was nothing more than a dream, the town itself was a real place in the waking world— a tourist attraction at one time before all the strange disappearances occurred.

"You're here, too?" came a sudden voice from behind, the tone hinting surprise.  
Startled at first because I believed from the start I was the only one in the place, I whirled around to find a woman standing there. She might've been in her early or mid thirties, looking frail and shy despite physical appearance of maturity; her copper-brown eyes depicted deep guilt probably acquired after committing one or more crime done in the past— any soul greeted in this realm of the town should be considered as a lost being drawn to this place because of the 'skeletons in the closet', so to speak. Her pale skin made her long black hair stand out, which gave her a ghostly appeal that I almost considered her as the walking dead, and could bluntly see her arms and wrists had crudely stitched cuts that still bled onto the empty street she stood in the middle of. Her voice sounded soft, too soft and drowned in shyness, yet suspiciousness drifted from her like an aura of negativity sweeping over me, for there had been a partial sharpness to her tone that seemed to physically manipulate facial expression; her brows dipped at the joining point and eyes flashed a glare, which immediately I knew this woman didn't trust me one bit.

"What?" I say, my face frowning in expression before adding, "Why so surprised— is there a reason for me not to be here in my dream?"

"I've never assumed this place would lure one so young here before," the woman then said, keeping her distance while circling me before she chuckled softly and added, "So what makes you so sure that this is a dream?"

Silence had answered, the woman briefly chuckling again while shaking her head— obviously, she knew something that I didn't and found humor in this advantage— and then asked, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I responded slowly, watching her nervously by keeping distance from her as well, and then became curious enough to ask for her name, yet she did not answer as soon as expected. She stopped in place with arms crossed loosely and then her expression darkened when flashing another suspicious glare, which I found odd because she had no problem doing the questioning until it became my turn to ask things.

"Alice," she answered after the mild moment of reluctance waned. "Now, where did you come from?"

"I..." My voice faltered when I tried to answer and then a question stirred within me: _Where did I come from? How did I end up here?_  
This had to be a dream, my reader— this had to be just another dream. Why...oh, why couldn't I remember? Needless to say, I'm certain this has never happened in my dreams of this place before; for I don't ever recall seeing an Alice, let alone being in this particular location of the town. I couldn't really be here— now at this very moment? My thoughts were broken when Alice turned herself around to where her back now faced me and then heard her talking to herself as if speaking to another beside her.

"She doesn't remember. She's the one by the tree… Yes, I'm sure of it. She's the one that..." Her voice trailed off into low murmurs until she turned her gaze back on me with a wide grin corrupted by the look of insanity displayed on expression, and she started to laugh, the laughter borne throughout the whole town; echoing through the narrow alleys and empty streets.

"Please— enlighten me from ignorance with a thorough explanation: what the hell do you mean that I'm the one by the tree?" I asked, trying to stay calm from her strange behavior that greatly disturbed and frightened me.

She tilted her head to the side with that grin of hers, giggling like a mischief before her voice took a melodic tone and sung in slight whispers:

_"In the dark night,  
People gather for relinquish of their sins.  
Tired to bother with the sounds  
That seem eerie all-around.  
Ones who enter through the gates  
End in madness and horrible fates.  
Silent Hill calls to those  
Who have regretted their past.  
Darkest secrets unfold to them,  
Whispers saying bloody omens.  
Tired to bother with the sounds  
That…seem…eerie…all-a-round."_

She giggled and laughed before repeating to sing the little song, vanishing through the thick mist. I called out for her, but the only response was quite obvious when her laughter died down into complete silence after the third echo of "all-a-round" was whispered, for it was silence itself in which clearly substituted and emphasized her reclusive nature, yet in the end her silence made it blunt for me to know she wanted to keep me in ignorance. My heart had been beating wildly while all this had happened, and I could not bring myself to move from my spot. I was alone— again.

What did she mean though, that I was the one by the tree, I had questioned. Perhaps that is where I must've come from before, I suppose, amnesia wooed me and brought me here. When my heart was beating at a steady pace, I reluctantly dragged myself away from the sidewalk's curb, entering through the gray mist in which shrouded my every sight and memory.

***

I mumbled in realization about the town truly being vacant of its people— except for that eccentric Alice and me, and then resumed kicking small stones from the road while trudging along its side. This place was growing more peculiar and ominous by the minute, for if it wasn't the brain's delusional tendency to corrupt perception and derange what it could comprehend as figment of imagination, then truly does this town hide a malicious element that manipulates reality by its own will. I could've sworn I heard strange sounds that were truly not conceived by the human imagination, for what deranged mind has the endurance to create such unfathomable things and bequeath them with limited intelligence? I'd rather not know the answer, perhaps it would not be to my taste nor would it comfort me the same.

A cold and brief chilling wind passed over and manipulated my red curls in a wave of flickering fire, and to my utter terror, a sound of some sort of premature monstrosity formed at the start of insanity's border shaken my heart and mind with thoughts rummaging like waves collapsing on top of one another. Already had the darkness begun, for it swept my troubled mind with revolting images that symbol my most inner fears. It came...it came to me. Oh, what wretched creature had I birthed from my magnificent and beautiful mind. Oh, how I felt like Frankenstein when he had given life to an existence never meant to be a part of our reality, nor did its presence be comprehended by our reality's force and will to cope with its horrid visage.

It made deep, blood-curdling sounds, and one would think it were someone choking on their own blood, but little would one think that it was the very symbol of their anguish. This abomination— this mockery teasing of what was left of my sanity— stepped forth for my unwilling eyes to behold and I shuddered at this strange and blasphemous sight that chilled me to the bone. This disfigured mutation had been given life as some perverse hallucination; the body's form wasn't completely proportioned right—it was like an abstract of whirling madness. All of its skin was torn and mortally scarred with several areas around its left arm, torso, and back stitched crudely, and it even looked as if someone stitched its face carelessly and poorly because whoever did stitched it too far on its right; its right eye stitched closed with the left far too close to where its ear would've been. Both eyes were wide and bobbled with its jagged teeth snapping and chattering as if a great wisp of a bitter winter's cold swept over it. The torso was long and extremely thin to where I could see its ribs bulging from what little flesh had to hide; thin enough to see its black veins that could not course blood throughout its entire stature. Its arms were long and its hands large with boney fingers. Its right hand was holding a rope, and I heard something being dragged at the end.

To my disgust, I smelt the rotting carcass of what looked to be a female that had the other end of the monster's rope tied around her neck. Her body was also in poor condition as if savaged dogs torn the flesh to shreds and mutilated her face to the point that identification was impossible. This creature stopped and looked at me, its skin decaying with crusted blood, and strange-looking insects with facial expressions similar to a human's burrowed in and out of its flesh. When this creature walked it was like hearing the low rumbling of distant thunder in an approaching storm, and the sickening stench emitting from its body made me wonder how I lived through its degrading existence. It seemed indifferent to my presence and stood there with those frighteningly large eyes that could not correctly stare at me, for they wobbled and bobbled around as if attached to springs, making it difficult to remain affixed.

"_Sssshiiiiide_," I had heard the creature hiss in a ghastly whisper in which startled me.

I didn't understand, then suddenly heard a siren blaring, and when looking away for a moment and then turning back the creature was gone; vanished. I do not know, my dear reader, if he was to be considered as friend or foe, but acknowledged that he was warning me of something— what could it have been?

It almost sounded like _hide_— but if so…why?

The siren blared three more times, and indecision occurred when I thought about remaining there or to just linger out further into the fog in which clouded my sight. All was quiet after the siren stopped, and a sickening feeling grew within my stomach like a fetus maturing in its mother's womb ailed me into a moment of faintness. Glancing at the buildings, I witnessed their gloomy stares changing into dark and twisted sanctuaries for the Darkness that soon swept Silent Hill. It all happened so quickly though. The road— the town…  
Where was I— what was happening?


	2. Chapter 1

___________________________

...:::Silent Hill:::...

..::{Vague and Morbid Silhouettes}::..

I.  
.:Nightmare Manifesting In Northbay:.

___________________________

"Are we almost there yet?" came my impatient brother Jon-Jon's voice.

Grandma shifted in the passenger seat, I could tell that she was getting irritated with Jon-Jon…as usual. She glanced over at grandpa, expecting him to be the one to answer the impatient imp's question that had been asked many of times since the start of our ride to the Northbay hospital. Grandpa took no notice, his eyes riveted on the red stoplight, and his thumbs began to rap in a steady rhythm on the steering wheel. Grandma cleared her throat noticeably trying to get his attention. He glanced at her with a questioning gaze before realizing what he was suppose to do.

"Jon-Jon, shut up back there. You're driving your grandmother nuts," he finally said, glancing behind him to Jon-Jon, who just sighed in annoyance and obvious impatience.

I had grown weary of his needless displays of this irritating behavior, biting my tongue to not say an unneeded comment. All that would do is stir another argument that's pointless and a waste of breath, but for some reason I always found myself slipping the wrong comment at the wrong time anyway.

"You're an idiot," I mumbled and then looked out the window.

"Don't call me an idiot, retard!" Jon-Jon snapped at me.  
"Whatever. You're a fag."

"Well, you're a bitch."

He punched my arm, which made me furious and hit back, which then resulted in a series of hitting and slapping and name-calling.

"John!" grandma hollered for grandpa's attention (fed up with the both of us), but he was completely oblivious to the small squabbling the siblings were having in the back of the car, which was obvious when he responded by giving her a blank stare before returning his attention back to driving.

By the sound of grandma's furious and pissed voice, Jon-Jon and I came to a still and painfully long silence— or at least felt painfully long. We just sat back and stared out the windows.

"Diane, you didn't have to yell," grandpa said gently to grandma.

She only rolled her eyes and kept quiet the rest of the way to Northbay, which in fact wasn't that long since we were now pulling into the entrance and finding a parking place. To say the least, our rides in general are always like that, and I suppose you could say that it's given some detail to you, dearest reader, of the relationship between Jon-Jon and me as siblings, along with how we act and respond to one another with such impulsiveness.

Northbay isn't an extremely large hospital. It's big; fairly above averaged size with three floors and three basement floors. The building looked old in some way though, perhaps the creamy peach colored paint gave it away since most of it chipped from the walls. We headed in through the main entrance, there was the front desk and on both sides were two elevators. The front desk was made of polished black marble, the top decorated with a couple of vases that had beautiful red and white roses, and some papers that neither Jon-Jon and I knew what information they held— probably just paperwork and such that dealt in what goes on in the hospital.

We entered one of the elevators, the one that was to the right of the front desk, and from time to time Jon-Jon would make strange and hideous faces that greatly irritated me to no end. Grandma waited patiently, glancing at the elevator's buttons, while grandpa just seemed to stare off into space. It wasn't long that we had to stay in it, for a _bing_ sound rang once to let us know we were on the second floor, and the doors slid opened before stepping out. The lights overhead flickered a few times with a static and buzzing sound, annoying my ears and inspiring Jon-Jon to mimic its irritating music once he witnessed its noticeable cause to my annoyance. I had mumbled an insult loud enough for him to know it had been directed towards him, yet low enough to not be recognized. Regardless if he knew what the insult was or not, he glared over in my direction and then suddenly made a wide and mischievous grin before walking ahead of our great grandparents and me, disappearing behind a corner.

"Angel, go follow your brother and make sure he stays out of trouble," grandpa told me as soon as he noticed Jon-Jon wandering off.  
"Oh, com' on, dude," I groaned in protest, "What's the worse he can do?"

His response to this was simply a glare warning to not test his patience and to get my ass moving. Sighing after realizing if I persisted to protest it would rouse an argument, and would only end up feeling rotten with a foul mood to finish off the day. So, being smart, I bit hard on my tongue, turned on my heel, and went off to search for my impish brother. This is all I needed; Jon-Jon to run off and start asking annoying questions to the nurses and other employers who worked hard in the hospital, and get us both kicked out during the process of me strangling him. I was growing weary of this immaturity. I mean, at times I can be just as immature, but at least I know where the line is drawn and can control myself.

"Jon-Jon!" I hissed angrily when seeing him make goofy faces around each corner he turned and glanced behind to see me. I began to pick up pace, trying to refrain from running, and caught up with the pest just in time when he entered into an elevator.

"Alright, you little son of a bitch, where do you think you're going?"

"Well, you know me," Jon-Jon said with a goofy grin and a roll of his eyes, "Just being a dumb ass!"

"Don't have to tell me twice," I mumbled.

"Which floor should we go to?"

"We need to go back to grandma and grandpa to see Kitty in ICU, idiot."

"Aww, com' on, Angel! I want to check the other floors out. Pweety pwease!" Jon-Jon begged while attempting to make an adorable pout and batting his eyelashes, failing miserably because he looked ridiculous. Nevertheless, his failure to look adorable made us both roar in laughter and after we stopped he then directed his eyes on the buttons, deciding which to go down first.

"Just press _1BF_."

He pressed the button _1BF_ and the elevator began to go down, Jon-Jon and I gripping onto the side railing because we always felt jumpy when an elevator began to descend or ascend. It gave us butterflies in our stomach.

"Hmm…I wonder where it goes to," he mused aloud.

"The first basement floor, dummy," I stated sourly.

"Oh— Hey, wait a minute, don't call me a dummy!" Jon-Jon hissed, ready to punch my arm until I quickly jumped from his reach, which made him end up hitting the wall. "Ow!"

"Ha!" I chimed with a smirk.

He was about to say something until the lights overhead began to flicker wildly, causing us to become quiet. Both of us looked at one another momentarily in desperate need of confirmation that it wasn't the imagination playing tricks, and were curious of why the lights were flickering. Although having enough common sense to know that the lights probably needed to be exchanged for new ones, it was Jon-Jon's wild imagination that would always make me forget rationality and have me believing that strange forces of horror were at work. A sudden and strange static sound began to screech and whine loudly, hurting both of our ears, thus confirming the belief of the possibility that some form of terror was lurking near. We hollered in pain, holding our hands up tightly over our ears as the sound screeched louder, and then all at once everything went black. The only thing I could remember was seeing Jon-Jon falling to my side before the lights went out and we fainted. What had happened, I could not tell. I cannot recall how long it had been since we had blacked out, nor had I dreamt of anything pleasant. Well, actually…I've never dreamt of such a horrid nightmare before.

My dearest reader, I dreamt of seeing that strange monster created from my mind. He was still the same horrid thing I shuddered and loathed, and yet loved all the same. He came to me again…came to warn me of something. I do not know what it was, for he did not speak. All he done was show me the rope that had been around the female corpse's neck he had been dragging in my past dreams before tying it around his very own neck and hanging himself from the ceiling's pipes that ran along throughout the dark and gloomy halls of the first basement floor in the hospital.

Sudden whispers filled the dark and silent room I had found myself waking into. I could not see a thing and my heart was beating wildly at the strange things the voices all around me whispered, though I could not decipher what they were saying, it provoked the sense of fear. Feeling around with my hands in hopes to find Jon-Jon and to relief heard him stir awake and murmur my name.

"What happened?" he asked, his hand reaching for me in the pitch darkness of the elevator, accidentally poking my right eye before quickly apologizing after I recoiled in pain and cursed.

We both gasped when the lights suddenly flashed on and to our utter horror we found we were not in the same elevator we had gone on to take us to the first basement floor. The walls were riddled in blood and seemed to pulse and move as if sustaining their own will, making strange and abnormal sounds that almost seemed like they were groaning and moaning in pain. I could only guess Jon-Jon's heart was beating rapidly like mine by how his breathing became heavy and unsteady; terrified and overwhelmed with what was all around him. Suddenly I felt my skin crawl when a loud wail sounded from outside the elevator.

_BING!_

The doors of the elevator opened and Jon-Jon and I couldn't bring ourselves to look out, fear of what awaited us from beyond. We felt safer in here, regardless of the elevator's nauseating appearance, for it was the only place we were aware of that did not birth hideously monstrous forms. Nevertheless, as all typical human curiosity has its effect on us, I was the first to slowly creep to the opening from the doors, peering out nervously like a turtle from the safety of its shell. Jon-Jon whimpered, he was obviously not handling this well, especially for the fact that I was already standing up and stepping out from the elevator.

"Come on," I urged him, looking around my surroundings before turning my waiting gaze on him.

"You have to be freakin' kiddin' me. I'm not going out there!" he exclaimed rather excessively with his fear.

"Obviously I'm not since I'm standing out in the open— let's just check this place out and get it over with. Come on, it's not as bad out here as it is in there."

Jon-Jon reluctantly pulled himself from his safe haven and slowly made way out towards me, shaking violently like I had done until he finally was standing close to my side. He looked at me with a questioning gaze, giving me the impression like he was expecting me to know what to do and how to get out of this mess. To be quite honest, I had no clue. I was just as scared as he was, my heart pounding against my chest as I heard strange and abnormal sounds: wailings, screams, crying, groaning, hissing, and frightful snarls and growls from a probable sort of hideous and loathsome distorted creatures lurking about the twisted, blood and rusted halls and corridors. I suppose the only reasonable thing to do in this sort of situation was to find a way out, right? Well, that should've been it; at least that's what I had believed. However, I had no clue of where to start.

Jon-Jon and I could've taken the elevator back up…if it didn't have its own will. When we had decided to go back into the elevator, both of us being startled by those strange sounds I should say, I pressed the second floor's button, but the elevator's doors did not close. The only response I had gotten from it was the eerie glow of the lights overhead flickering violently and a strange moaning sound coming from within the elevator as if it was in distress. This had made Jon-Jon jump with a startled gasp and then he quickly dashed out of the elevator.

"Jon-Jon!" I hollered, leaving the elevator as well, following after him. "You idiot— wait for me!"

He ignored me, running all he could down the hall that was covered in blood and rust, some tiles on the floor were missing, and I could've sworn that the stuff that was stapled or nailed onto the walls was skin— human's skin. What happened here? Why was the hospital in this sudden condition? Was all of this just a dream? A nightmare? I could not answer these questions that I had asked myself as I ran after Jon-Jon. He took a sharp turn to the right at the ending of the hallway that split into opposite directions, stumbling to the ground when he slipped on something. I stopped a couple of feet from him and we both glanced at his feet; his shoes had slipped in some dark puddle. We couldn't identify it right away because of how dim the hallway was, and as my hand touched the warm and sticky substance Jon-Jon quickly looked up at something he saw from behind me, his eyes widening with utter horror, and he couldn't find his voice when he tried to tell me to turn around.

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking at him worriedly.

He slowly raised his arm and pointed behind me with his eyes wider and his mouth agape; horrified expression. I was confused and followed his direction of where he was pointing, my eyes falling on the horrid sight, and I found myself falling back onto my bottom, trying to find the will to scoot back from this dark and twisted sight that chilled me to the very core of my sanity…or at least what was left of my sanity.


	3. Chapter 2

___________________________

...:::Silent Hill:::...

..::{Vague and Morbid Silhouettes}::..

II.  
.:Torn and Scattered Pages of A Lost Soul's Memory:.

___________________________

_Now I lay me down to sleep.  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  
And if I should die before I wake,  
I pray the Lord my soul to take…_

If only that were so true, my dear reader. If only I could believe in that again like I had done when I was just so very small, ignorance sprinkled in innocence. I guess when we are children the world sees no need to trouble our little mind and let's us continue to play in our pretend worlds. We know no concept of the beautifully corrupted life, nor the need to worry and stress ourselves like the adults do. At one time we were meant to be ignorant; we didn't need to know the horrors of which haunt the world and Mankind. To be honest, I'd give anything to feel that way again. I'd give anything to just believe that I didn't have to worry anymore, to believe that I was safe in these made-up worlds.

The air grew still with an odor so foul that it made Jon-Jon and I nauseous, and our eyes stung with tears, for the air stank like vomit and strong urine together. My nose even tingled from the stench and would have to sniffle to keep the watery mucus from running out. We didn't know what to do as the thing we saw came towards us, seeming like it was struggling as it walked in a strange and unusual way.

It looked to be some kind of mutated dog created by a mad scientist. Its front paws were actually hands— human hands. The hands' flesh was torn and shredded with dried blood on the scabby scratches and slightly deep cuts made from the barbwire that wrapped around the palms and wrists. A black-ironed birdcage was over its head, yet its long snout stuck out from the birdcage's little door and had a leather belt or strap secured around its muzzle as if to ensure those who encounter this beast would not get bitten. The back legs were replaced with large metal wheels, and several cords of barbwire substituted as tails.

The rustic wheels of the beast's back legs squeaked and made straining sounds; the beast continued to come towards us. When it was about twenty feet in distance it stopped and lowered its head to study Jon-Jon and I silently. Jon-Jon slowly scooted backwards, which only made the beastly canine more curious, for it stared at him intently with its head slightly tilting to its left. It raised its head back up, and then we witnessed its neck split vertically when it made a strange growl; suddenly splitting further down to the chest where a tongue lashed out, the ribs baring from the opening like teeth. Jon-Jon had seen enough and scrambled up onto his feet, fleeing down the hallway and screaming for me to hurry up and run. Certainly there was no such thing as hesitation when getting up onto my feet as quick as he did, then glancing at the beastly canine for the last time before turning my back and fleeing when it let out a terrifying roar from its chest.

"Com' on! Hurry!" Jon-Jon urged, gesturing one hand frantically while the other held a door open for us to go through. "Its right behind you!"

By the fearful tone aided with urgency I heard heavily in his voice when he told me that thing— whatever it was— was right behind me, the adrenaline particularly triggered by fear to give a boost of additional speed propelled me down the hallway and then leaped through the doorway where Jon-Jon was. He quickly slammed the door as soon as I landed inside the room, my body sliding across the polished floor and hitting my head against a wall. I heard the securing click of the doorknob being locked, then Jon-Jon ran to my side.

"Angel, you're bleeding! Are you alright?" he quickly asked as he helped me sit up, my head throbbing with pain, then I just had to groan as my left hand covered the small gash on my head that was bleeding.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm alright," I answered after rubbing my head.

It was quiet after that. He bit his bottom lip and stared at the locked door, and I could see the blunt terror he felt by how his body slightly trembled while his eyes nervously glanced the room, then making soft and quick frightened gasps as if he heard something.

"Do you think it's gone?" Jon-Jon then asked, breaking the silence.

"I-I don't know," I responded and then slowly stood up. "But I'm more concerned of where it came from. What the hell was that thing? I've never seen anything like it before."

Jon-Jon shrugged, unsure himself, and stood up with me. We began to get a look at our surrounding. It appeared that we had entered into one of the large rooms that had some x-ray photos pinned up on large bright lighting boards displaying the scans of patients' injuries and bones. To our left, a little ways of about five feet from where we were standing, was a wooden desk covered in piles of papers and several x-ray scans of broken bones and cracked skulls. What stood out from the mess was an average-sized notebook that had what looked to be dried blood stained on the front cover. There was a name written on it in blood as well, and I walked over to the desk to examine.

"What…the…hell?" I stammered softly in confusion when I realized whose name it was.

"What? What is it?" Jon-Jon asked and then came up to my side.

"This notebook…its…mine. What the hell is it doing here?"

"Well…it could be someone else's named Angel. I mean it is a pretty common name."

Even though I wanted to believe in his words, I felt sudden doubt lingering within my heart as I sensed great familiarity with the notebook. I didn't say anything to him to justify it though. My eyes stared at the blood-written name _Angel_ on the cover before I opened the notebook and started to read.

_February 23_

_It's raining today. Can't go outside.  
As if I really wanted to go outside in the first place…  
Don't know why (scratched out) can't come out into the lounge and hang out. I haven't seen him in three days. I wonder what those weird people are doing to him… I hope he is alright. He's the only real friend I have here.  
Hmm…I wonder how long they plan on keeping me here._

_That man named Michael came to see me again earlier. He scares me…  
He also knows what happened to (scratched out), but never told me anything specific.  
I guess those weird people got him that night when he managed to runaway.  
Doesn't look good._

I stared long and hard at the page I had just read.  
_This…couldn't…be mine. This couldn't be my writing. Could it?_  
Jon-Jon noticed my troubled expression as my eyes reread the page again before turning to the next page.

_Hangman_

That was the only thing written on the second page. I looked at the next:

_Hangman_

I turned to the next page. The same thing was written, even the following pages after. Who the hell wrote this, I had thought, this wasn't mine! And what did it mean? Was there something about the word _Hangman_? Was it a clue? A hint? What? What the hell was it?

Jon-Jon startled me from my thoughts when he screamed because something bashed against the locked door. It must've been that dog-like monster. Someone or something trying to get in bashed the door again. I dropped the notebook and grabbed his hand, looking around frantically for a place to hide or another door to go through. Sure enough, there was a door to our far right at the corner of the room. I quickly ran over to the door with Jon-Jon being pulled along with me. The bashing against the other door grew in its aggression and more frequent. There was no doubt that there was someone or something trying to get in because they knew that both of us were inside. I push the other door open, yanking Jon-Jon forcefully in before me when the locked door on the other side of the room busted open, and I soon slammed the door behind me. I told him to find things sturdy enough to be put in front of the door so it would hold whoever or whatever off, buying us some time to search for a way out.

"Angel, look!" Jon-Jon said, tugging on my sleeve to get my attention.

"What is it? Can't you see I'm trying to keep whoever the hell it is away from us?" I hissed as I managed to push a large shelf in front of the door by myself.

"Look!"

Sighing, I let my eyes wander over to the direction he was pointing in and then a small gasp slip passed my lips. Well, this was indeed a pleasant surprise and a big relief of security. He had found us some useful weapons to use against whatever monster we'd come across. There was a four foot steel pipe just lying on a desk and on the floor was a machete. The machete looked like it had been used not too long ago because there was fresh blood on the blade and the floor from where it was left.

"Dude, our asses are so saved now!" I exclaimed and quickly took the steel pipe.

Jon-Jon was more than pleased to see that the machete was left for him, snatching it up quickly, then making a face as if he sucked on a lemon when he realized that his hand was now covered in blood from the machete's recent work, mumbling and grumbling to himself as he tried wiping it off with papers lying around on the desk.


End file.
